


I got my new shoes on......

by Bananasplit86



Series: The Life & Times of Swiss Chocolate [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananasplit86/pseuds/Bananasplit86
Summary: Roman takes the wrong pair of boots to the game against Hertha Berlin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Worst summary ever.  
> So, this came from the idea of Roman and Yann having the same colour boots and same size feet (which they do by the way)! Boot swap fic ideas happened. This is my take on it. 
> 
> Just something short and sweet that I hope you enjoy and don't take too seriously.

Roman doesn't even realise until Marcel points it out to him after the match. 

And he swallows hard, eyes going wide with the horror that he feels. His hands are shaking as Marcel looks between him and the boots, a slight frown on his face and then a glimmer of realisation.

“Stick around after food Roman.” Marcel says softly, his face softening to a small smile traced with what Roman thinks is understanding.

Roman can barely nod as he scoops the luminous boots into his arms and shoves them into his kitbag as quickly as possible. He’s really not sure how he grabbed the wrong ones, they each have their names on them, personalised so that they don’t do this sort of thing. Yet here he is, with Yann’s boots in his bag, and Marcel knows.

He’s shaking as the others leave the locker room for their post match meal, laughter pealing around him as they revel in their win and progression. He can barely make himself lift from the bench and leave the cool comfort of his locker behind him. The one thing he wanted to keep hidden from anyone but their families until the time was right and he’s ruined it.

He wonders if anyone else noticed, if Raphael spotted the name and opted not to say anything. Did the cameras zoom in too far and capture a close up of his feet? Will it be front page news for BILD the next day?

The door handle rattles when he grabs it and he takes a deep breath. He’s barely holding it together and contemplates feigning sickness to get out of there, but he can’t. He can’t do that to his teammates, to the sponsors, to anyone. They’d know something was wrong and he needs to…. He needs it not to be.

So he pauses and sets his shoulders squarely before pulling the door open. 

Marcel smiles at him later on, his face open and welcoming and Roman feels himself relax slightly for the first time since the game had ended. He swallows slowly and drops his gaze from his captain to the floor briefly.

“So…” 

“How long?” 

“Uh, a couple of years.” 

He feels the breath that Marcel takes and feels the silence run through him.

“Years? Wow.” 

“Yeah.” Roman fiddles with his cuffs and lets out a slow shaky breath. “Brazil.” 

“Figures. Please tell me you're being careful.” 

“Um. With all due respect Schmelle, that's none of your business, but yes, we are.” 

Marcel has the audacity to laugh and Roman feels his chest constrict. 

“I don't mean that, although I'm glad that you are, I meant publicly. Because I'm glad it was me who spotted and not anyone else, you have to be careful or at the very least make sure you have different boots.”

His chest loosens and his throat opens. “I know, I know. I don't know what happened, I must've just picked the wrong ones up when they were delivered.”

“I don't want to lecture you Roman, but you know what the media is like and they'll jump on you if they find out about you two. Just be careful, especially if, and I'm assuming here, you live together.”

Roman nods. Marcel is right, it's the small things that could burst their world open and rip it apart, small things like names stitched on boots.

“Go home to him Roman. Take his boots back, don't let the kit man get those.” 

Roman smiles for the first time in what feels like hours and nods. “I will. Thanks Schmelle, I appreciate this and if you could-”

“I know and I will,” Marcel says. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise. So long as you're happy that’s the main thing.”

Later when Roman is happily on the sofa, feet propped on Yann's lap, with Yann's fingers dancing over his calves and ankle slowly and softly, Yann laughs.

“Did you enjoy playing in my boots?”

“You knew?”

“Last night after my game. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd flap and your game would suffer.”

Roman bites his lip and tilts his head, watching Yann's face carefully. “Schmelle knows about us.”

“He saw my name?” 

“Uh huh. I…. I'm sorry.”

Yann sighs softly and leans towards him, hand gently cupping Roman's chin. “What for? I don't care that he knows, all I care about is you, and that I love you.” 

Roman feels his heart swell as Yann kisses him.


End file.
